


By Accident

by leici



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:59:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2244798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leici/pseuds/leici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows he shouldn't be watching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Accident

**Author's Note:**

> Set the evening of the American Idol Season 7 Finale. I'm not sure if Neal and Andy were actually there, but it seemed reasonable enough to be plausible. Title is taken from the song by MWK. Many thanks to frackin_sweet for the beta, encouragement, and everything else.
> 
> Well, meeting this way just by accident  
> Reality tames my mind  
> Well, feeling the same just by accident  
> Words can't display what I see with my eyes, and then  
> You build me a makeshift heart for you to break  
> Until the water fills the sink  
> To wash my hands from this accident
> 
> Written October 2009.

He knows he shouldn't be watching. But, really, he does all sorts of things he knows he's not supposed to do. It's almost his trademark.  
  
This, though, isn't  _his_  folly. For a change.  
  
It's true, nothing's really happening, but his buddy Dave is about two and a half inches away from a statutory rape charge, just based on the approximate location of his hand on David Archuleta's lower back. If he could be arrested just for the look in his eyes, he'd be behind bars already.  
  
Neal doesn't really get it, either, because it's not like Archie's your typical sort of jailbait. He's  _cute_ , there's no denying that, but he's not what Neal would consider attractive, sexy. Never mind that Neal is mostly straight (hey, there's nothing wrong with keeping an open mind), but Archie's not the type that would make him reevaluate his orientation.  
  
Dave, though, it's pretty damn obvious how he feels about the kid. There's an eight year age difference, and that's probably the only thing keeping Dave from dragging Archie to some empty room and popping his cherry.  
  
Or maybe not, because they're leaving now, together. They're not touching, but Archie is following closely behind Dave as he exits the room. Neal's not entirely sure why he feels the need to follow them, but he finds himself crossing the room a couple of dozen paces behind them, careful to keep out of sight.  
  
The location Dave finds is actually a pretty good one, if you don't want to be found. There's an access room, it looks like, and the door is locked open, but inside that there's some kind of storage area that's full of large stage equipment as well as multiple boxes, making Dave and Archie invisible. Except to someone who knows where they are.  
  
At this point, Neal won't even attempt to pretend he's not a voyeur. He finds a spot he can perch on the backside of some of that equipment, a place where he has a decent view without being visible himself. The lighting is low, just auxiliary type track lighting, and it's all but blocked out where he is, tucked into a corner. There's enough ambient light, though, that Neal can see very clearly the way Dave tips Archie's head up and kisses him.  
  
Neal's watched Dave make out with someone before, several someones, some of which he'd gotten a go at himself before or after. And, if he's being honest with himself - and, why the hell not? - he and Dave may have crossed the girl-in-the-middle buffer a time or two, not that he remembers those instances all that well.  
  
Or maybe he does, because when Dave adjusts the angle of his head and sucks softly at the pout of Archie's lower lip, he feels the flutter of nostalgia at the bottom of his stomach. Archie makes a funny, soft sound, like a moan blunted by surprise, and Dave's fingers slide onto the back of Archie's neck, rubbing as he draws away.  
  
Their voices are low, but Neal's more than close enough to hear.  
  
"I can stop," Dave says, but the tone of his voice is telling a different story. It's saying, if Archie lets him, Dave's going to make things  _very_  worth Archie's while.  
  
Of course Archie has no idea what that even means, what might be down the road if he doesn't pull off now. Even from Neal's hiding place, he can see the kid shaking.  
  
"No," Archie finally responds, his voice shockingly sure. "I want this."  
  
Dave's eyes are locked on Archie's, dark, but there's something there that's not just lust, that's not wanton or reckless. There's concern in Dave's expression, something almost like fear. And it takes a minute, because Neal can't remember the last time he's seen that look on Dave's face, but it strikes him really unpleasantly when he puts the pieces together and comes up with  _love_. Dave's  _in love_  with this kid, this  _child_. And it doesn't make sense because there are so many reasons why Archie is so wrong for Dave. Worse than wrong.  
  
Dave doesn't seem to get that, though, because he doesn't move away when Archie lunges to continue their kissing. In fact, he pushes into it, wrapping his arms around Archie's shoulders and lifting him to his toes, pressing their bodies tight together. There are a couple of shuffling steps and Dave finds something solid to press Archie's back to, and Neal can see Dave roll his hips forward, motion punctuated as Archie tears his mouth away, voice a soft gasp.  
  
"Gosh..."  
  
 _Fuck_ , Neal thinks, because there's no way Archie's ready for this, for what Dave is telling him he wants. He probably doesn't even know how sex works, let alone how to do it with another guy. Neal almost feels obligated to go and break this shit up  _now_ , before it goes too far.  
  
Oh, but it's too late for that, way too late. Dave's palm is down between them, cupped over Archie's groin, and the way he's squeezing it's exceptionally easy to tell how turned on the kid is right now.  
  
"Cook," he breathes, his eyes shutting as his body starts to take him places he's never been before.  
  
"Tell me what to do," Dave replies, his forehead pressed against Archie's temple. "Tell me what you want me to do." The scary thing now is how unsure Dave sounds, but it doesn't seem to be stopping him. The bones stand out in the back of his hand and the sound Archie makes proves that he's taking steps anyway, even before Archie answers him.  
  
But then Archie does, though not immediately with words. His left hand reaches down to cover Dave's, and then his right joins it, and he's cradling Dave against him. "What do... What do you want?" Archie finally says, turning his head to try and meet Dave's eyes.  
  
Dave leans back, just a little, so they can establish eye contact. The heat is still there in his gaze, and the worry, and Neal can practically hear him swallow. "I want to make you feel good," he says, and it's so disgusting and cliché that Neal feels bile rise in the back of his throat. But on top of that there's this sincerity that makes Neal sick for a completely different reason.  
  
Archie blinks a couple of times, as if he's absorbing the information, and then his says, evenly, "You already make me feel good."  
  
Dave makes this odd sound at the admission, like some kind of hybrid between a laugh and a sob. "See, this is why I love you," he responds, his lips curled in a soft smile. Archie shakes his head, obviously not getting it, and Dave adds, "I can't stop myself."  
  
"Stop yourself from what?" Archie wants to know, though it's a little breathy, because Dave's hand is still on him, still moving just a little bit.  
  
"Falling for you," Dave says, and he tips his head so their foreheads are pressed together. Archie looks almost conflicted, and Neal's about ready to get up and leave before he ends up puking all over himself from the sappiness when Dave speaks again, deep and low. "I meant it when I said it before. I love you, Archie."  
  
Archie's lower lip starts to quiver and then, a second later, they're kissing again, and this time there's some real passion behind it, Dave's free hand anchoring at the back of Archie's head, one of Archie's moved to grip the collar of Dave's shirt. Considering the fact that Neal's probably witnessing Archie's first kisses, he's a little shocked by how quickly the kid seems to be catching on. He doesn't hesitate, just parts his lips and lets Dave inside, tilting his head and pushing up into the warmth and wetness.  
  
It's hot. Neal can't deny that, can't ignore the way watching them is starting to make him feel. Dave's hand is shifting beneath the one of Archie's that is still holding on, Archie's fingers curled tight around it, and Archie starts to moan into the kiss. He's making all these desperate, whining sounds, and it's building, the heat in the room, between them, low in Neal's belly. He needs to stop watching, but now he  _can't_ , he's so fixated, enthralled.  
  
And then Archie's voice rings out, clear and melodic, a soft cry of completion, his mouth open against Dave's chin. His fingers are fisted now in the cuff of Dave's shirt, and Dave's hand is stroking gently, coaxing Archie through it, his thumb rubbing little circles at where Neal assumes dampness is blooming. Neal has to close his eyes, because it's just a little too much, the tenderness of that gesture, and the tight feeling in his chest that someone might mistake for jealousy. Worse than all that, he's hard, desperately, and aching and so, so stupid. This is none of his damn business. He doesn't belong here, invading their privacy like this.  
  
The light in the hallway is bright and his eyes water as he stumbles back into reality, trying to remember what direction he needs to go to find a bathroom. He can hear the noise of the main auditorium to his left, and decides to go right, even though he doesn't know where that will take him. He really doesn't need to run into anyone he knows, into someone like  _Archie's parents_ , while his dick is bulging in the front of his jeans. He walks aimlessly, and comes upon the restroom by some lucky turn of fate. Inside, he splashes cold water on his face, breathes deeply, feeling himself start to calm down. Wiping water out of his eyes with rough fingertips, he looks at this reflection accusingly.  
  
"Just what the fuck do you think you were doing?" he asks himself, harshly, but neither he nor his mirror image have an answer. He feels like he's losing something, and not just his mind. It makes no fucking sense, and it pisses him off so much he wishes he could punch something without risking a broken hand. Instead, he shoves his hands back under the tap, letting the cool water pour over them until his joints start to ache, his skin starts to go red, and the pain distracts his body from the urges he wishes to God he didn't have.  
  
The sound of the door creaking open makes him jump, and he can't help the look on his face when his eyes meet Archie's in the mirror. He knows he's staring, but he really can't help himself. Archie's lips are swollen, the skin around his mouth a little red - probably from Dave's beard, his mind tells him needlessly - and his face is a flushed softly, his eyes darker than normal. And Neal knows  _why_  he looks like this, intimately, but the first thing he thinks anyway is that Archie looks  _beautiful_  this way, ravished, satisfied.  
  
He forces himself to smile, and he can see in his peripheral that it looks more feral than anything else. He supposes that's the best he can do. Archie's return expression is a bare quirk of his mouth that might have been a smile if the rest of his face wasn't caught in some kind of fear. He hurries to break eye contact and locks himself into the stall farthest from the door. Neal knows he should get the hell out of here immediately, but he lingers for reasons beyond his own comprehension, hearing the rip of Archie's zipper, and he physically shudders because he knows what Archie is doing in there, and why, and he might be hallucinating, but he swears to God he can fucking  _smell_  it.  
  
He has to get out, now, shutting off the tap and pushing through the door with enough force that he practically takes Dave out on the other side. Fuck, fuck this, because he's caught in the middle and can't escape. And the best fucking part is that he put himself here, and now he's trapped inside it. He has a feeling the look in his eyes is a little manic because Dave's looking at him with concern, his hands gripping Neal's upper arms. There's a conversation going on here in the silence, because they've known each other long enough that sometimes words are probably not the greatest idea.  
  
And then Dave knows, suddenly, that  _Neal_  knows, that he's in on the secret. If the situation were different, Neal might laugh, because watching the expressions change on Dave's face is almost comical, from worry to realization to stark terror. Then it's almost pleading, and Neal remembers, vividly, the way Dave looked at Archie, the intensity, the sincerity, and Neal shakes his head.  
  
"You better be careful," he bites out, and his voice is raw, a rough whisper. "You're going to get yourself into fucking trouble."  
  
"I know," Dave replies, letting Neal go, looking suddenly exhausted.  
  
Neal shakes his head again, more to clear his own mind than anything else. "I'm not gonna say anything," he says, finally, though it's unnecessary. They both know Neal would never sell Dave out that way.  
  
"Thank you," Dave acknowledges, looking genuinely grateful.  
  
Neal nods once, curtly, and sidesteps Dave with a final glance, heading back to the festivities. He finds Andy and Andrew and Dave's mom, denying himself a cigarette he really wants because he's been gone long enough as it is, and he's earned the right to suffer at least a little bit. It's a few minutes before he notices Dave and Archie return, though not together, which he's sure is by design. Archie joins his family, and Neal can see him tugging on the hem of his t-shirt, looking to the unknowing observer like a nervous gesture. Neal can guess the real reason, and it almost makes him feel bad for the kid. But then Dave is at his side, and he adjusts his gaze away, feeling properly admonished by Dave's expression.  
  
The rest of the night goes similarly, until the after party where Neal gets himself more than liquored up enough to stop thinking all together. He gets a cab back to the hotel with Andy, and he feels a little bad, but he spends most of the drive touching his bandmate in ways he probably shouldn't be. At least has the excuse of being drunk off his ass to rely on later. Andy, God bless him, gets Neal to his room in one piece and Neal doesn't even take his boots off before he tumbles into bed, face down on the scratchy hotel comforter. He pulls himself into a ball when he feels the world start to spin around him, and closes his eyes tight, willing himself to just pass the hell out already.  
  
But the only thing he can see behind his eyelids is the look on Dave's face when he told Archie he loved him, Archie's eyes in the bathroom mirror, Neal's own accusing stare. His head is hurting, his chest, and he just wants it to  _stop_. Whatever the fuck this is, whatever it takes.  
  
Mercifully, someone or something is listening, because only a moment later, Neal is blessedly claimed by unconsciousness.


End file.
